


Belonging

by Lysaanderr



Category: TwoSet, Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF, twoset violin
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst, Character Death, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28505616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysaanderr/pseuds/Lysaanderr
Summary: Eddy doesn't want to lose Brett, and he's willing to pay the price to have him back. Any price.
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang, Hyung Suk Bae/Brett Yang
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a drabble by IG twosetshibapenguin called "Where You Belong". (https://t.co/pVDl7IF4Wz?amp=1)
> 
> There are some references to the Harry Potter universe, specifically time-magic. However, the Harry Potter Universe doesn't play a big part in this fic. This first chapter probably makes more sense after having read the drabble by IG twosetshibapenguin.

Eddy's eyes were hot. Snot was dribbling from his nose and his cheeks were sticky and damp. He didn't care. He was frantic, tearing through his closet, the drawers of his desk, his bookshelves. 

_Where is it_ , his knuckles scraped against the sides of the desk, coming away with angry red welts. _Where is it_ , his fingernails were ragged, the edges peeling. He didn't care.

"Eddy?" 

He didn't stop hauling the books off the shelf. 

"Eddy."

Someone grabbed his shoulders, yanked him back and away from the shelves, spun him around. It was Belle. 

"Eddy," her voice was calm. Eddy couldn't see the expression on her face anyway; his eyes were still swollen, and he tried blinking away the film of tears. She gave him a gentle shake. "Look at me," but Eddy couldn't.

He sagged and dropped to his knees, and Belle, sweet Belle, didn't let go and followed him down to a crouch. 

“I just…” Eddy croaked. But he had nothing to say. _Just… Just what?_ He scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes and looked blearily around at his childhood bedroom. There were traces everywhere; why wouldn’t there be? A _Dragonball_ sketch taped on the wall, a dog-eared elementary school mathematics textbook, a stupid, bloody pencil. Even a dumb, stubby pencil.

Belle tugged him close and he leaned into her hug.

“Look, we’re going to get dinner ready. Do you want me to get you once it’s ready?” Belle ran her hand down his back, firm and comforting. She leaned away and lifted his head with her other hand. “See you in a bit, okay?”

Belle stood and brushed off the dust that had coated her jeans. “Whew. It’s been a while since we’ve been back here, isn’t it?” She muttered absent-mindedly. Eddy could feel her gaze on him, but he still couldn’t look up.

“See you later, okay?” She repeated and stepped out, the door clicking quietly shut behind her.

Eddy didn’t move for a while. His head felt so heavy his neck might snap but he roused himself and forced his gaze up and around again.

He couldn’t spend the night here.

He didn’t want to leave.

Then, he noticed a cardboard box under his bed. He wrinkled his nose; he couldn’t remember what was in it. He scooted over, leaving tracks in the dusty floor. The lid was crinkled and half-collapsed, and he pried it open, sneezing at the cloud of dust that burst up into his face.

There was an old sweater wadded up in the box, half of a recorder– _where was the other half_ , Eddy mused–and… a glint of something gold and still shining.

He lifted the Time Turner from the box and held it up in front of his eyes. Even in the dimly lit room, its round edges shone and the tiny hourglass in the center gleamed in the light of the early evening dusk. He turned it over in his hands and read the old familiar inscription on it: _I mark the hours, every one. Nor have I yet outrun the sun. My use and value unto you are gauged by what you have to do._

_**[*]** _

Eddy’s breath caught.

_Go back to wherever you belong._

The words rang in his head, and Eddy felt a sudden surge of anger. _To where he belonged? Where he belonged was always clear. Always._

He curled his fingers over the Time Turner, weighing the heft of it in his hand. He could still feel the warmth of Belle’s hand lingering along his spine. His big sister. The one he admired and looked up to. He was so glad she was here. He loved her. He loved her so, so much. He really did. But…

_Brett._

Eddy let himself think his name for the first time in a long time. He listened to the sound of it tumble in his mind and in his memories, swam in the shape and taste of it.

He wasn’t going to accept this. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

He looked down at the Time Turner in his hand.

_Just three turns should do it._

\-------

[*] https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/time-turner


	2. Chapter 2

Eddy turned over the hourglass three times and blanched as his surroundings fell away from him in a sudden rush of light that swept over his vision. There was the faint sound of something snapping, a thin crack like an ice cube dropped into a hot drink, and Eddy found himself staggering on a sidewalk by a busy road.

A car roared by, and Eddy flinched. He scrubbed a hand across his face, head reeling, and looked around. It was still late evening, and the evening sky was a dark orange, with streaks of purple.

Where was he? Or rather… _when_ was he?

He looked down; the Time Turner in his hands was bent out of shape, the golden curved frame no longer round. The hourglass was cracked, and Eddy peered at it closely. The grains of sand were gone.

Eddy fumbled in his pockets but damn, he left his smartphone in his room. And well, he wasn’t sure if it would work if he time-traveled anyway. His head was still spinning, and he assumed that it was because of the time-travel; he didn’t know that much about it and there were bound to be side effects, right?

He took a few shaky steps forward and tried smiling reassuringly at a few passersby who shot him suspicious glances and gave him a wide berth as they passed. His legs didn’t seem to work quite right and he stumbled forward awkwardly.

There was a building looming just across the street, and Eddy headed for it. As he crossed the road, he realized that it was a school and… he scanned for the school’s sign board and there. It wasn’t just a school. It was _the_ school. The school he went to for math tutoring in the evenings, math tutoring where…

Eddy stumbled past a row of classroom windows and stared inside. His mouth dropped open and he blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

It was his own lanky figure, ambling down between the rows of desks. That terrible mullet that he insisted on having, that horrendous backpack he begged Belle to buy for him. He could hear his own high-pitched voice say, “Hi, my name’s Edward Chen. But call me Eddy.”

Eddy dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, groaning at the persistent pounding headache. But wait… Eddy suddenly remembered one of the texts he had read about time-magic. _Who was it again? Croaker? That’s right! Professor Saul Croaker!_

As our investigations currently stand, the longest period that may be relived without the possibility of serious harm to the traveller or to time itself is around five hours.

All attempts to travel back further than a few hours have resulted in catastrophic harm to the witch or wizard involved. It was not realised for many years why time travellers over great distances never survived their journeys.[*]

Eddy stared down at his shaking hands and felt something leak from his nose. He brought his hand up and it came away red with blood.

_Shit._

Eddy slid down the wall. _What was he going to do?_

He could hear the teacher’s droning voice from inside the classroom and the sharp squeak of marker against the white board. He had to do _something_.

There was a shudder creeping up over him, a tremor he couldn’t stop no matter how hard he tried to clench his fists or grit his teeth. There was something wet oozing from his ears, and he didn’t want to even think about it. His head was spinning, and a dull throb had started in the back of his throat.

_Please. Please. I just… I just want…_

He had to do something. No matter what.

Eddy rummaged in his pockets and managed to dig out an old earphones case. It had a cartoon bubble tea face printed on it, and it had actually belonged to Brett.

 _Brett_ , Eddy thought. It was just a single thought, but it calmed the quiver in his legs, steeled him.

_Right._

-+-+

Eddy loitered around, waiting for class to be over, and tried to exude an air of nonchalance. He kept himself propped up against a streetlight in the parking lot; the shaking had gotten a lot worse and he could barely keep himself upright. There was a heaviness in his limbs now, and a pulsing ache was thumping through his chest.

The front doors of the school finally slammed open, and the students tromped out into the night. Some headed straight for idling cars where their parents were waiting and others milled about by the pick-up area, scanning the parking lot for familiar faces.

Eddy tried to keep an easy gait as he headed toward the gaggle of remaining kids. He kept his head lowered slightly but what were the chances of either of them even recognizing him?

“Eddy Chen?” Eddy rasped. Even his voice was going now, and an itch had crawled up his tonsils.

The tiny version of himself peered up at him with wide eyes. “That’s me.”

For a brief second, goosebumps creep over him. Did his younger self recognize him? But, no, his younger self was just staring up expectantly.

“Who are you?” A suspicious voice cut in, and now the thumping ache in Eddy’s chest was something more familiar, heavier and lighter all at the same time.

There he was. Not really him, of course. But it was still him. It would always be him. Those black-framed glasses, the defiant tilt to his head, his small pursed lips.

Brett was inching forward, putting himself between Eddy and well, Eddy.

“Heya,” Eddy hoped he sounded light and breezy. “Brett, right? I just need to talk to Eddy.”

“How do you know his name?” Brett frowned, and his glare intensified. Eddy wondered why Brett didn’t ask about how he knew _his_ name.

Brett spun around. “Do you know this man?”

The younger version of Eddy shook his head, and Brett swung back around to narrow his eyes up at Eddy.

“Get lost, creep,” Brett gestured in a vaguely threatening manner. “Or I’ll call the cops.”

“Whoa, calm down,” Eddy took a step back, mainly to appear less threatening but also because he nearly lost his balance. The pounding behind his eyes was getting worse.

“I just need to show Eddy… something.” And okay, that sounded a lot worse than in his head.

“I’m gonna call the cops!” Brett snarled, and he backed away, keeping young Eddy behind him protectively. Young Eddy yelped in protest at being pushed back.

“Wait!” Young Eddy dug his heels in and stopped both of them in their tracks. “Let’s just hear him out!”

Young Eddy peered over Brett’s shoulder but made no move to step forward. “What’s your name, mister?”

“Uh… Edward.” Eddy cursed inwardly. So much for being quick-witted.

Young Eddy brightened. “That’s my name too!”

“Shut up,” Brett hissed. “He already knew our names, dumbass!”

Young Eddy looked surprised, then crestfallen. “Right.”

This was getting nowhere.

“Okay, look,” Eddy raised both his hands and when he had made eye contact with each of the two boys, he slowly reached into his pocket. Brett tensed.

Eddy held out the bubble tea earphones case. “This is for Eddy only.” He locked eyes with his younger self, whose brow was crinkled. “Only Eddy.” He emphasized.

“Oooohhhh, what is it?” Young Eddy darted around Brett before the other boy could stop him and snatched up the earphones case.

“Open it when you’re by yourself,” Eddy said, then added hastily. “When no one else is around.”

An expression of suspicion started to creep over Brett’s face again, so Eddy hurried on. “It’s a secret! Just between us.” But nothing he said sounded anything close to being _not_ suspicious.

“Okay!” Young Eddy agreed easily enough, and Brett clutched his face in disbelief.

“You can’t just take some random thing from a complete stranger!” Brett fumed.

Eddy managed a weak chuckle, but he needed to get out of here, fast. The roar in his ears was louder now, and he could barely make out anything in front of him. He stumbled away from the squabbling pair and managed to get around the corner of the building before dropping face-down to the ground.

The concrete felt rough against his cheek and he was lying in a puddle of something, and he couldn’t be sure it was not a puddle of something that leaked from his ears. He couldn’t feel his arms or his legs or anything else for that matter.

He hoped he had done enough. He hoped this was enough. That he would be enough.

 _Brett_ , he thought and closed his eyes.

\------

[*] https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/time-turner


	3. Chapter 3

Eddy shrugged the backpack off and flung himself onto the bed.

“Dinner!” Belle hollered from downstairs.

“Coming!” Eddy yelled back, but he dug around in his pocket and brought out the little plastic box the strange man had given him.

He turned it over in his hands; he wasn’t even sure what it was. It looked cute though. He stared at the cartoon eyes staring back at him, rubbed a thumb over the black polka dot pattern on it.

The man had looked familiar somehow. When he’d first looked up at him, he’d had a weird sense of… he didn’t know what it was. A shiver had shot from the tips of his toes right up to the crown of his head and he’d actually felt like puking. But he hadn’t, so there.

The thing felt slightly warm in his hands, but it could have been from being in his pocket. He eyed it; could he be imagining a faint silver light shining from inside? Was it battery operated?

He glanced at his bedroom door–it was ajar, but he was alone so that counted. The man had said to look at it only when he was alone.

It took a while for Eddy to figure out how it worked but he found the seam and pried it open. It was filled with what looked like a liquid bathed in moonlight, except Eddy was lying in bed in the dark with the curtains drawn. The shimmering liquid was silver, and he wasn’t even sure if it was liquid. It almost looked like light or even little puffs of cotton candy. It moved within its container, shifting restlessly.

Eddy held it closer to his face, and the substance glowed and turned transparent. Eddy found himself staring at the surface of what looked like a tiny mirror except… it was Brett’s face staring back at him.

 _Brett!_ Eddy sat up, excitedly. His new friend, the boy he met earlier today at math tutoring. The boy who had tried to protect him from the weird man. His new friend.

Eddy felt a swell of warmth just thinking that. _Friend._

He stared at Brett’s image in the shining substance[*], and Brett’s impassive face stared back. _Was this it?_ Eddy frowned. He extended a finger cautiously and then paused.

 _Oh, what the heck_ , he thought and placed the tip of his finger right on the image of Brett’s nose. _Boop._

Eddy had the sudden sensation of falling, of being pulled upward, of tumbling around in a few different directions at once.

And then.

He was standing in a music hall, his violin case slung over his shoulder. _Wasn’t he just in his bedroom? Why was he here? Was he dreaming?_

Eddy glanced around, disorientated, and then he spotted Brett sitting glumly some distance away, and he raised a hand to wave.

“Brett!” He called, but the other boy didn’t even look up. Eddy scowled. _Did he already forget him?_ Eddy was about to storm over when, well, someone who looked exactly like Eddy walked past him and did the exact same thing!

“Brett!” The other Eddy called, and this time, Brett did look up. The glum expression on the bespectacled boy’s face vanished, and a beam stretched out over his face.

 _What?_ Eddy thought, watching this other Eddy skip up to Brett, and the two boys started chatting animatedly. He looked around and realized that everything had an odd faraway quality, like he was looking at everything through a fogged-up windowpane.

_A dream?_

Suddenly, he _was_ standing right by Brett. He was looking out from the other Eddy’s eyes now; his mouth was moving, and he could hear his own voice asking, “Remember me?”[†]

The band director clapped his hands. “Take your seats, everyone! Let’s start with tuning.”

_Was this real?_

Eddy blinked.

Then.

Eddy glanced over his shoulder at Brett who was peering down at his phone. They were weaving down the dark street, and Brett was chatting at the phone for their Kickstarter livestream.

Brett stopped short, and Eddy stopped too.

“What is it?” Eddy asked.

“We did it,” Brett’s voice was hushed, in awe. “We did it!”

A wave of joy, relief, disbelief surged up in Eddy. He flung himself at Brett, held on tight.

“I love you,” Brett said, and his voice was warm and low in Eddy’s ear.

“I love you too,” Eddy sobbed, and he could feel a low rumbling chuckle in Brett’s chest. Probably thinking that he was a crybaby again.

_I love you._

Then.

There was the barest brush of Eddy's wrist against Brett’s cheek as Eddy held the earring up to Brett's ear. Eddy saw Brett shoot the filming camera a sidelong glance, and he couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face. 

"It suits you!" Eddy crowed, and Brett half-rolled his eyes. _What was it anyway?_ He didn’t even know. _A pineapple?_ He couldn’t tell.

Eddy’s eyes watered from the glare of the Christmas lights all around them and the refracted shine gave Brett a halo. Brett squinted up at him, the creases at the corners of his eyes deepening.

"Brett," he said. He didn’t continue but he knew Brett knew anyway. He knew Brett didn’t bother asking _what_ because he knew the comfort found in feeling the gravity of a familiar name on your tongue, held and weighed and spoken. The joy of naming another freely without reservation or fear of being heard.

Eddy was dizzy from it, light-headed from this tiny burden he carried but he felt like he could bear it forever.

Then.

The grass was damp against the back of his shirt and Eddy turned his head, the blades of grass tickling the corner of his eye. The mud from the ground was cool against his cheek.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and the heavy grey clouds roiled.

_I miss you._

They were sprawled out in a nearby park, having sprinted for shelter after the sudden sun shower. The air was sticky and thick, and it still looked like it would rain again.

Brett’s eyes were closed, chin upturned to the sky.

A dog barked in the distance, and the humid heat coaxed a single bead of sweat down along his temple.

 _I already miss you_ , Eddy thought, and Brett’s hand was fitted in his perfectly.

Then.

Then.

Then.

There were so many memories, so many things that they shared and lost and gained. It was a whole lifetime’s worth of memories and they crowded into Eddy’s mind, jostling for space.

Those were his memories. His own. That was his life.

Wasn’t it?

“Eddy!” Belle grasped him by the shoulder, and Eddy gasped, jolting upright.

“What’s the matter?” Belle cupped his face in her warm hands, rubbed her thumbs over his cheeks.

Eddy realized that he was sobbing, heaving for breath, tears streaming down in his face. His hand was pressed against his chest, fingers curled around the bubble tea earphones case. It felt light, empty, and its soft exterior crumpled easily in his grip.

“Eddy?” Belle was hugging him now, rocking him gently. “What’s wrong?”

Eddy simply cried.

\-------

[*]Eddy’s last minute Pensieve. In the Harry Potter universe, a Pensieve is used to contain memories in the form of a silvery substance that appears to be a cloudy liquid/gas.

[†] In the Harry Potter universe, memories in a Pensieve are generally viewed from a non-participant, third-person point of view but there are some canon discrepancies too. In the film adaptation of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Harry is shown inside the memory and watching from a third-person perspective. In the film adaptations of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2, the memories in the pensive are shown from a first-person perspective.


	4. Chapter 4

Eddy trailed along behind his mother, not really paying attention. His head felt stuffed full of wool, and he was on edge. He wanted to pick a fight with someone, still wanted to cry, but he also wanted to laugh. He wasn’t quite sure if he was still dreaming, still in someone else’s memories. But those weren’t someone else’s memories. They were his. His memories. So… was he dreaming? Was this the dream?

 _I’m Eddy_ , he told himself. But… which one?

“Here we are,” Eddy’s mother nudged him gently. “Behave yourself, okay?”

Eddy glanced up, shifting the weight of his violin case on his shoulder. And there was Brett. The other boy was sitting exactly where he remembered, exactly where he had dreamed. But it hadn’t happened yet, had it?

He opened his mouth, then closed it. A horrifying thought loomed up inside him and his vision actually went a bit dark. _He’s going to die._ There was a gripping terror inside him now, cresting and stretching out from his core to every part of his being.

“Eddy?” His mother leaned forward, and she was staring at him closely. “You don’t look well. Are you all right?”

Brett looked up from where he was sitting and saw Eddy. His face split into a smile, and Eddy felt like crying. He wanted to say so many things, wanted to run over and hug him, wanted to shake him by the shoulders and scream in his face.

But they’d only just met yesterday. Hadn’t they?

Brett half-raised a hand in greeting but without an immediate response, his smile was already slipping, and his hand was dipping.

 _No._ He had to hold on. This time, he had to.

“Brett!” Eddy jerked free from his mother and ran forward. “Brett!”

He skidded to a stop right front of the other boy, already breathless. Brett looked bemused, and his eyes were already crinkled in that familiar way Eddy knew as well as the weight of his violin bow.

“Remember me?” Eddy panted.

Brett shrugged and tipped his head to the side in mock-consideration. “Hmm…” He put the tip of his index finger on his chin. “Maybe…”

“You do!” Eddy insisted, bumping his shoulder against the other boy’s. The brief contact was a shock, a jittering bolt that traveled across Eddy’s spine to the base of his neck.

“Of course I do!” Brett laughed. “How could I forget?”

 _How could I forget?_ Eddy echoed the words in his head. There was something not quite right now; he felt like he didn’t really know this boy, but he already did; he already knew this boy, knew this boy as a man, knew him with every fiber of his being.

“I have to make sure you don’t go around accepting things from strange men,” Brett had a deadpan expression on his face, but his tone was teasing.

The band director clapped his hands, snapping both of them to attention. “Take your seats, everyone! Let’s start with tuning.”

They took their seats among the hubbub of chairs being dragged against the floor and music stands scraping into position.

 _I’m gonna save you._ Eddy glanced over at the other violinist, and Brett caught his gaze and smiled slightly. Eddy felt something hot and warm and fierce in his chest. _I_ will _save you._


	5. Chapter 5

Eddy needed a plan.

That day after rehearsal, he made sure to get Brett’s number (he hadn’t, the first time) and headed home and sat at his desk, staring at his violin lying across his lap.

Eddy sat and thought.

\----

Eddy kept going to youth orchestra rehearsals and math tutoring. He didn’t really need the latter, but it was just another excuse to spend more time with Brett.

Sometimes, he found himself forgetting that they didn’t share the same memories. The first time Brett bought him a burger, Eddy bit into it and then reared back in disgust.

“Yuck! Mushrooms!”

“Oh, you don’t like mushrooms?” Brett dropped into the seat across from him, unwrapping his own burger.

“Dude! You know tha-” Eddy froze. No, actually, Brett _didn’t_ know that. How could he? He had never told him. Not in this life.

Brett was munching on his own burger, eyeing Eddy. Eddy dropped his gaze and picked the mushrooms from his burger in silence.

Whenever they hung out, he made sure to go to all the places Brett liked: the zoo, the beach, taking long walks along the river.

He begged Brett’s parents to let them go slacklining, years before Before-Brett–as Eddy had taken to calling him—did it. He needed to give Brett these things, all these things he wished he was the one to give Brett, the things he couldn’t give Before-Brett.

During summer break, they were lying around Eddy’s place, and Brett was sharpening a pencil absent-mindedly. They were both bored out of their minds, and Eddy was rifling through the community events leaflet he had picked up from the grocery store.

“Hey,” Brett overdid it with the sharpening and the tip of the pencil snapped. Brett blew off the pencil shavings, scattering them on the carpet. “Anywhere you wanna go?”

“Mmmmm,” Eddy was lying on his front by the coffee table, and he rolled over, flipping the pages of the leaflet. “There’s a farmer’s market down the street,” Eddy eyed the accompanying exclamation bubble that advertised a petting zoo. Brett would love that. “Let’s go check it out!”

Brett hummed non-committedly in response and didn’t move; he was propped up on the couch, one leg dangling off the edge and barely touching the floor.

Eddy craned his neck toward Brett and was surprised to see that Brett was actually already looking at him.

“You don’t wanna?” Eddy frowned and flipped to another page. What else was there to do?

“Let’s go to the museum,” Brett suggested, tossing the pencil onto the coffee table.

“Huh?” Eddy waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, you get bored at those.”

“How would you know?” Brett challenged, sitting up and swinging both legs off the couch. “We’ve never been,” he paused. “Together, at least,” then he leaned forward. “And you like them, don’t you? Let’s go.”

 _They wandered into the Queensland museum aimlessly after school, restless and unwilling to go home and study or practice. They paused in front of the dinosaur footprints display in the_ Lost Creatures _exhibit, and Brett wordlessly held up his hand against the glass as if he were sizing his hand against a dinosaur’s. Eddy had wanted to make some kind of dumb joke, tease him about his old age or something, but he’d stopped. The light in the room was dim, and hues of blue washed over Brett’s silhouette. The glass displays sent beams of light dancing over the bridge of Brett’s nose, his thin high cheekbones. Eddy suddenly thought of Mendelssohn’s_ Hebrides Overture _, and then Brett turned to catch his eye and..._

Eddy snapped out of it. It wasn’t his memory. But… it was.

“Let’s go to the museum,” Brett said with a tone of finality and stood up.

And so, they went.

Brett was actually quite attentive, pointing out interesting facts written on the information plaques and checking the museum map for exhibits they hadn’t seen yet.

“Yo, check this out! They have a new Sea Monsters exhibit!” Eddy shoved the museum brochure into Brett’s face. “They even have a 13-metre long Elasmosaur replica!” He grabbed Brett’s wrist. “I wanna go see!”

“Let’s,” Brett agreed and they both darted down the hallway, snickering at nothing, dodging the other visitors.

They ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the displays and Eddy took a few photographs. He thought fondly of once having wanted to be a photographer, and even spent some time dabbling in it before they really got started with their YouTube channel and… Wait. No. That had never happened.

“Hey,” Brett bumped their shoulders together gently. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Eddy shook his head. Brett’s gaze lingered for another moment and Eddy turned his head away. It was weird when Brett stared at him like that. They hadn’t known each other for _that_ long, not at this point anyway, but there were brief moments, these little pockets of time where Brett seemed to look at Eddy and managed to peer into something deeper. Eddy felt goosebumps prickle along his arm.

They sauntered into the _Lost Creatures_ exhibit, and Eddy stared around at the displays in wonder. “Brett, these are so cool-” He turned to the other boy, and then the rest of his words died on his tongue.

Brett held up his hand against the glass, mirroring a dinosaur’s footprint. The wavering blue light in the exhibit room highlighted the set of Brett’s jaw, his slim waist. Mendelssohn’s _Hebrides Overture_ was suddenly playing in Eddy’s mind and Brett met Eddy’s slack-jawed stare.

The floor was falling away from Eddy, and the walls were closing in.

Was this the dream then? Which one was real?

Eddy’s knees gave way, but Brett caught him, easily, casually, like he was ready, already waiting to catch him all this time.

“Eddy,” Brett said.

Even though Brett was older, Eddy was already taller than him, even as gawky thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds. Brett’s arms were firm around his ribs, holding him up, supporting him. Eddy let his head tip forward, rested it against the flat of Brett’s temple.

Was this the memory? Was this Brett? _His_ Brett?

“I’m here, Eddy,” Brett said, and Eddy could feel Brett’s hair brushing against his upper lip, a little coarse and scratchy, and for now, it was enough.


	6. Chapter 6

Eddy looked at the flyer for the Queensland Young Instrumentalist Competition.

_The bright stage lights were making his eyes water, and a faint sheen of sweat glistened even on the back of his hands. It was so hot that his suit was clinging to his sides. He was holding his hand out to shake the host’s and receive his award, and somehow, he was still able to spot Brett’s beaming face in the audience._

He threw the flyer out.

\----

Eddy stared up at the billboard that had the National Youth Concerto Competition splashed all over it.

_Eddy craned his neck over the throng of other competitors, all milling about to check the posted results. He supposed he could have waited and gone home and looked it up online but whatever. He wanted to know now._

_“Yo! You’re on there!” Brett was on his tiptoes next to him, and Eddy didn’t think that would even help much. “I swear I saw your name!”_

_Eddy put a hand on Brett’s shoulder to give himself more leverage, even as the other boy huffed in indignation._

_There. There! His name was on the finalist list!_

_He spun to Brett, but Brett already had his arms wide, and they were collapsing into each other, laughing and cheering, giddy._

_“You did it!” Brett squealed deafeningly into his ear, but Eddy didn’t care. “You did it, bro.”_

_He did. He did!_

Eddy looked away from the billboard and kept walking.

\----

_“I think I want to do music,” Eddy stood in the doorway to the kitchen, and his mother glanced up at him from the sink where she was peeling potatoes._

_Eddy’s mom lowered the peeler in her hand and there was a brief moment of quiet. The only sound in the kitchen was the hiss of steam from the rice cooker._

_“You’re just saying that because you’re too lazy to study,” she turned back to her potatoes. Then she shrugged. “I don’t even think you have what it takes to make it in med.” She put down a peeled potato and picked up an unpeeled one. “You can’t even make it in med.” **[*]**_

_“What?” Eddy’s voice sounded high, even to his own ears. He expected protest or some form of argument, some persuasion to decide otherwise but this. This._

_This was a challenge._

_Brett laughed, actually_ laughed _, when Eddy complained about the whole “confrontation” but brought him coffee during his late-night study sessions and made sure to give him wake-up calls so he wouldn’t miss class and bring down his OP **[†]**._

_Eddy kept up with youth orchestra rehearsals, went to see Brett play at his many competitions, but found, more often than not, that he was jerking awake at his desk, papers stuck to his sweat-sticky cheek, Brett tossing a sandwich down in front of him to make sure he ate._

_Eddy could barely remember much of that year—just studying, just practicing, just Brett frowning disapprovingly and digging his thumbs into Eddy’s palm when Eddy’s hand cramped up from over-practice._

_Then the letter came in the mail and Eddy didn’t even bother waiting. He split the envelope open on the way from the mailbox to the dining room, checked it just to make sure, and stopped by the table where his mother was sitting._

_“See?” Eddy placed the medical school acceptance letter on the table. She blinked, picked up the thick smooth paper, adjusted her glasses, and peered at the letter. A smile started to reach across his mom’s face, her eyes gleaming behind her glasses. She lowered the paper and looked up, and Eddy took a deep breath._

_“I’m going into music.”_

_Eddy’s mom went still, her face now carefully blank. She didn’t move._

_Eddy walked away._

\----

His mother was peeling potatoes by the sink, and she asked casually, “Put any thought into what you’re going to do? Since you’re a Year 12 now.”

He knew what she wanted, what she had always tried to hint at when he was younger and now, more recently, strongly suggested by leaving brochures to university open houses and course catalogs open to specific dog-eared pages.

Eddy didn’t say anything; there was nothing for him to say. This decision had already been made, a long time ago.

\----

Eddy couldn’t spend as much time with Brett now that the older boy had graduated. Brett had made it into the Queensland Conservatorium; Eddy hadn’t even had a single doubt that he would make it. This time, though, there was no getting Brett to sneak him into the conservatory to use the practice rooms, no late-night practice sessions.

Eddy studied. He still played part-time with the Queensland Symphony Orchestra and went out with the others for a bite after rehearsals, but there was Brett-shaped vacuum that seemed to loom next to him every time he looked over to make a bad pun and wanted to be sure someone would laugh.

He swung by the conservatory to hang out with Brett one day, and spotted him standing in the hallway, chatting to a blond woman with flashing black-rimmed glasses.

“Oh, hey,” Brett nodded at him and smiled. He gestured at the woman. “This is Michele Walsh. Have you heard of her?”

What a thing to ask. In another life, Brett wouldn’t have had to ask. In another life, Brett didn’t have to.

Eddy stared at the woman, his mentor, the one who had guided him through so many trials and had supported him through his devastating breakdown when he had nearly quit music. He wanted to reach out and give her a hug, ask her how she was, catch up on what she was doing, and joke about her sadistic enjoyment in the rigor with which she whipped her students into shape. But… She _wasn’t_ his mentor. He _didn’t_ know her.

Eddy shook his head and forced a smile to his face. “Nice to meet you.”

“Are you a student here too then?” she asked genially.

“No,” Eddy swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat.

“Well,” she turned her attention away from Eddy and looked at Brett. “Congratulations again, dear. I’ll see you around.” Eddy watched her walk away; he assumed she was talking about Brett getting the Brisbane Club Scholarship.

Eddy turned back to Brett. “Wanna go get a coffee or something?”

“Sure,” Brett started down the hallway and Eddy trotted after him. “I just need to get my stuff from the practice room.”

“Yo,” Brett pushed the practice room door open and Eddy stepped in behind him. Then his eyes widened.

Someone was already there, poring over handwritten sheet music scattered over the piano keys. And he was holding Brett’s violin.

_At 13, the day after they met at rehearsal, two days after they met at math tutoring._

_“Can I play yours?” wheedled Eddy._

_“No,” Brett looked appalled at this close-to-complete stranger asking this._

_At 14, after rehearsal. “Can I play yours?”_

_“No,” Brett was already putting his violin away. “I’m running late.”_

_At 15, after having snuck a few (alcoholic) drinks._

_“Can I play yours?”_

_“No,” the single word was heavy, slurred. “It’s mine. It’s the one thing that’s mine.”_

_At 16, when they practiced for too long and too late, and Eddy decided to spend the night._

_“Can I play yours?”_

_Brett reached out but Eddy’s fingers curled over Brett’s around the violin’s neck and Eddy leaned forward and Brett didn’t lean back, and the summer night was warm and sticky and bittersweet._

“Yo,” the person looked up, and he was already smiling. He lowered the violin and opened his mouth to say something but noticed Eddy. “ ‘Sup?” he jerked his head in greeting.

“Jordon, Eddy,” Brett said, pointing respectively. “Eddy, Jordon.”

“We’re going to grab a coffee. Wanna come?” Brett reclaimed his violin and was putting it away. “Mind if he tags along?” He asked Eddy as an afterthought.

Eddy shook his head; the lump in his throat seemed to have expanded, constricting his breath.

Brett slung his violin case over a shoulder and placed his hand briefly on the nape of Jordon’s neck.

Jordon grinned up at Brett, and then he caught Eddy’s stare. Something in his smile changed a little, and Jordon swept the papers carelessly off the keys. Eddy watched in slight horror as a sheet drifted under the piano.

“Don’t worry about me. You guys go ahead and enjoy yourselves,” and then to Eddy’s chagrin, Jordon winked at him. Eddy was flabbergasted.

“See you later, then,” Brett waved.

Jordon didn’t reply; he had already turned back to the piano.

As Brett and Eddy stepped out of the practice room, Jordon started to play _Liebesleid **[‡]**_.

\-----------------------

[*] Dialogue lifted from Q&A video from Bilibili.

[†] The rank used by universities across Australia to help them select Year 12 students for entry into their courses; Australian Tertiary Admission Rank (ATAR) is generally used but in Queensland, Overall Position (OP) is used instead.

[‡] Also known as “Love’s Sorrow”, by Fritz Kreisler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you tilt your head and squint, you may just see some Jordon/Brett lol


	7. Chapter 7

Eddy was busy studying for the GAMSAT[*] the year Brett joined the Sydney Symphony Orchestra and moved to Sydney. They texted, called, and video-chatted a lot of the time, but Eddy felt somewhat absent-minded and on edge. But he didn’t think he could reasonably justify flying to Sydney every other week, even if it wasn’t that far away. It wasn’t as if he could say it was for a… business venture or something.

Eddy was sitting around, mindlessly tapping away on his phone when his mother called for him from downstairs. It was Belle, checking in with them like she usually did.

“Hey there, lover boy,” Belle chimed through the phone when Eddy’s mother passed it over to him.

“What are you talking about,” Eddy hissed, the back of his neck flushing red as he hurried to get out of earshot. His mother shot him a suspicious look as he scurried back to his room.

“Hey,” Belle restarted the conversation once Eddy was safely in his room and behind his closed door.

“How’s you going?” Eddy propped his mom’s phone up on his desk and stretched his arms over his head.

“Things are good. Been doing some writing, some new compositions,” Belle shifted a little, and Eddy could see that she was lounging comfortably on her couch.

Eddy nodded encouragingly, urging her to continue but her easy expression fell away and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Mom said you’ve been moping around. Is the studying getting to you?”

“I’m fine,” Eddy waved dismissively. He didn’t think it’d be a problem at all.

“Well,” Belle’s brow was still crinkled. “If you say so,” she said, then she paused and took a breath. “Still playing the violin?” Her tone was light.

Something squeezed in his chest and suddenly, he was imagining, or rather, remembering from another lifetime, the fingering for the second movement of Saint-Saëns’ second violin concerto. His fingers twitched but he merely grunted in response, not trusting himself to utter even the single syllable.

“Well,” Belle repeated, this time with a disconsolate sigh. “You always used to enjoy music.” Then she laughed, her tone lightening. “But you were also always the sensible one!”

Eddy almost felt guilty at the pride on Belle’s face.

“You did good, bro,” she beamed and then emphasized, “you’re _doing_ good.”

She clapped her hands together suddenly as if a thought had just occurred to her.

“How’s Brett?” Her eyebrows rose inquisitively.

Eddy struggled to keep his expression neutral. “Eh,” he shrugged, trying for a nonchalant air. He apparently failed because Belle jabbed at the screen and hooted, “I knew it! That’s why you’ve been moping around!”

“No! What!” Eddy said hotly and this time, the tips of his ears were burning.

“You should just tell him,” Belle declared.

“Tell him what?” Eddy grabbed the phone and turned the speaker volume down just in case his mother happened to walk by. Or was just standing outside and eavesdropping. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“You can’t just sit around forever,” Belle harrumphed. “I’m sure Brett wouldn’t mind.”

“Mind? Mind what? There’s nothing to mind!” Eddy said shrilly.

“You never know what might come out of it,” Belle sing-songed and wagged a finger at Eddy through the phone.

“There’s no ‘it’!”

“Fine, fine,” Belle scowled semi-seriously. “But seriously, bro, make up your mind.”

Eddy was somber at once. But that was it, wasn’t it? His mind was already made up. That was the point. That was the point of… it all. This.

“I have,” he said quietly, eyes downcast. He could sense that Belle was still watching him thoughtfully, even though she didn’t say anything else.

“Okay,” she said finally, and they chatted about random things like Belle’s husband, London, and the old shops they used to frequent when they were children.

It was only a little while before their mother rapped on Eddy’s door and poked her head in. “Done?” she inquired.

“Good chatting to you, little bro,” Belle blew a kiss at him and Eddy pretended to catch it. “Take care, you hear?”

“Bye, sis,” Eddy’s thumb hovered over the END CALL button and he was suddenly reluctant to hang up. He wanted to ask for his sister’s advice; he wanted to be able to explain his decisions and make her somehow understand. But it was too late now. “Love you,” he said instead and hoped that it was enough.

\-----

His phone buzzed with an incoming video call. It was Brett.

“Hey.” On screen, Brett’s face was flushed.

“Hi,” Eddy yawned. It was two in the afternoon, but he had just dragged himself out of bed to get some breakfast. He was juggling a bowl of cereal in one hand and a carton of milk in the other, tapping at the screen with his pinky.

“Yo, I just sent you a link,” and sure enough, Eddy’s phone buzzed, and a notification popped up on his screen. “It’s this music video called ‘Gangnam Style’[†]. You listen to K-Pop, don’t you? Have you seen it already?”

A sudden chill ran down his spine. Was this…?

Eddy had memories of watching the music video, sure, but _he_ hadn’t actually seen it and well, Eddy tapped on the link and was drawn into it immediately. The choreography and the music were on point, and it was definitely an earworm.

He found himself bobbing along as he watched, and Brett echoed a “Right?” from the other end of the line.

“Man, did you see how many views it already racked up?” Brett said in astonishment. “It only came out, like, what, ten minutes ago!”

Eddy swallowed. He knew what Brett was going to say.

“We could make some videos too, you know, like funny ones,” Brett made a vague gesture. “And we can stick them on YouTube.” Brett tilted his head in the way he did when he was thinking. “We could do covers of songs or something.”

Something was shredding Eddy apart from the inside, something with fangs dripping venom and savage hooked claws.

_“Oh, hell yeah! That’d be fun!” Eddy spooned a mouthful of cereal into his mouth and chugged some milk straight from the carton. “I can totally fly over on some weekends or whatever, and we can make videos!”_

“Oh,” Eddy tried to sound disinterested, but his voice cracked. “Are you sure you’d have time for that?” His grand piano loomed in his periphery vision and caught his eye, and Eddy stared at it.

They had filmed so many of their videos here, in this room, with this piano. It was propped open, and a layer of dust had coated the insides. His closed violin case, sitting on top of the covered keyboard, was gathering dust too.

“Yeah, why not?” Brett blinked and leaned forward, closer to the screen. He was frowning slightly; maybe he was puzzled by Eddy’s lack of enthusiasm. After all, Eddy was always on board with anything Brett suggested.

“You’re in Sydney now,” Eddy shrugged. “When would we even film?”

 _This was stupid_ , Eddy thought. He sounded like he was making excuses and that was exactly what he was doing. Making excuses.

 _What was he doing?_ He knew that Brett would have heard him out if he’d sat him down and told him about the day they first met, that crazy man they met, the decision his younger self had made.

Brett would have been furious, if not for Eddy’s sake then just for the principle of it. He wouldn’t have wanted anyone to waste their lives for something that may not even happen, something that may not even have been real. A fever dream. A wild-eyed man and a gullible child.

Eddy knew Brett would have clutched his head and shaken Eddy by the shoulders. Would have told him that nothing was worth giving up the life you wanted to live. Nothing.

Or maybe Brett wouldn’t have believed him. And it didn’t matter. Eddy abruptly felt like he wanted to throw it all away. All these past decisions, all those regrets, pinning him down into this body that he wanted to gouge hollow with his nails, rip his skin bloody, and scream and scream.

_//_

_“Mmmm,” Brett hummed, one cheek plastered to the tabletop. “We need a name.”_

_Eddy looked up from where he was messing around on the piano. “Something about violins.”_

_“Duh,” Brett lifted his head and rolled his eyes._

_“Well,” Eddy pointed at himself, then at Brett. “There’s two of us so like a duo or something?”_

_Brett made a sound of consideration then brightened. “Two of us are a set so something like that?”_

_“A set of two…?” Eddy pursed his lips in thought._

_“Twoset?” Brett suggested and Eddy laughed._

_“That doesn’t even make sense grammatically!”_

_“Whatever!”_

_“Fine, throw in ‘violin’ at the end and we’re set,” Eddy laughed._

_“Fine!” Brett click-clacked at the keyboard and hit ENTER. “Done! Channel created!”_

_“Nice,” Eddy drawled, and they gave each other an air high-five._

_//_

_“Who knew editing videos were this difficult?” Brett complained, sliding Eddy’s headphones off his head. “My head hurts,” he groaned and slumped forward, cupping his face with his hands._

_“It was fun though,” Eddy wandered into the room from the kitchen, cradling a pack of TimTams. “You don’t have to do it now. Do it later!”_

_Eddy dropped into a wheely chair and rolled over to Brett’s side. He nudged the laptop out of the way, unhooked the headphones from around Brett’s neck, and pulled him into his lap._

_Brett laughed._

_//_

_Eddy pointed his camera out the airport window and caught sight of his own reflection. 6:30 A.M. He yawned. Man, who got up this early? A plane pulled out of the runway, and Eddy watched the clouds roll by in a dazed sleepy joyful fog. It was spring break, and he was flying to Sydney for a week. He was going to see Brett._

_It wasn’t long before the plane had landed and Eddy grabbed his suitcase off the conveyor belt, trying not to drop his phone at the same time. He had a video going, and he jabbed it to selfie mode as he made it onto the escalator._

_“So, for those of you who don’t know, Brett and I live in separate cities,” he started, then he spotted the bus to the city idling by the exit and made a beeline for it._ I’ll edit it out later _, he thought._

_After he got settled into his seat, Eddy held the camera up to his face again. “So every time we get together, we have a week where we bulk film, like, a massive amount of videos,” Eddy heaved a mock sigh. “And when we’re apart… **[‡]**” A surge of urgency rose in him, and he glanced away from his phone at the other passengers shuffling languidly onto the bus. He wanted to make a move on, damnit. _

_//_

_“He’s a butler, ironing his shirt for me **[§]**,” Eddy snickered. Brett ran the iron down along the shirt fabric and hummed good-naturedly. _

//

_“How awesome is that? TwoSet–” Brett yelped as Eddy slapped his ass._

_“I can’t believe I did that,” Eddy tittered, glancing at the still-recording camera. **[**]**_

_When they had finished filming for that particular video, Eddy reached over to turn off the camera and Brett slapped him in the ass._

_“Hey!”_

_“That’s payback!” Brett scolded. But._

_Eddy glanced back where Brett’s hand was still resting on Eddy’s tailbone, almost casually. Their eyes met and Brett smirked._

//

_“If it weren’t for music, I wouldn’t have met Brett **[††]**,” Eddy kept a steady gaze on Brett’s face, and the other man tried to hide his smile._

//

_“You okay?” Eddy peered around the door into the room._

_Brett mumbled something into the pillow; the violinist was face-down under his flowery gray duvet._

_Eddy scampered over and dived in, wrapping his arms around the duvet and Brett. They tousled for a bit until Eddy managed to squirm into Brett’s cocoon, tucking the comforter around both their shoulders._

_“Brett Yang,” Eddy tried for a stern tone. “You’re supposed to be resting.”_

_“I was!” Brett laughed in protest._

_Eddy cupped a hand along Brett’s jaw and drew a thumb under an eye; Brett always tended to get eyebags, but these shadows were alarmingly dark, and even his cheeks felt hollow in the palm of his hand._

_“Want anything to eat?” Eddy asked, and then added, “Except bubble tea.”_

_Brett snorted and burrowed his face into Eddy’s chest._

_“Stay,” Brett sighed. “Just stay.”_

//

He wanted those memories to be his. _His._

But they weren’t.

“We could do it whenever I visit, or you could swing by and crash at my place.” Brett waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Eddy thought of the way the sun had shone so brightly that day, and the sky had been a deep cloudless blue. There had been a soft breeze, the kind that would show up in some Ghibli movie, the kind that made the grass ripple and the horizon seem clear. He had looked down at the black-framed glasses in his hands. He had been able to hear Brett’s mom crying, and her sobs had rung in his ears with a buzz of dissonance. The air had been light and crisp. It had been a beautiful day. Such a beautiful day.

_Don’t leave me. I don’t want you to leave me._

“We’re both busy with our own lives,” and that came out harsher than Eddy had intended.

“Right,” Brett looked surprised. “Right,” his brows crinkled slightly, almost apologetically. “Being in med must be tough; things are probably crazy for you now.”

Brett was leaning back now, and Eddy was the one leaning forward. _No_ , he wanted to say. _Sorry. I’m sorry._

“Sorry,” Brett said.

And Eddy just couldn’t take it anymore. He hung up and covered his face with his hands, his phone clattering to the floor.

And that was that.

\-----

[*] Graduate Medical School Admissions Test (GAMSAT) is developed by the Australian Council for Educational Research (ACER) in conjunction with the Consortium of Graduate Medical Schools to select eligible students in Australia, Ireland, and the UK.

[†] Brett once mentioned in an old podcast interview about the idea of TSV sort of grew from realizing how many people actually consume media on YouTube, and figured it’d be fun to make their own channel. This is also mentioned in this article here: https://www.violinist.com/blog/jacquelinevanasse/201711/22510/

[‡] Dialog picked up from TwoSet’s Sydney vlog.

[§] Dialog picked up from TwoSet’s Sydney vlog.

[**] Dialog picked up from “5 Most Difficult Violin Pieces” video.

[††] Dialog picked up from “Do All Classical Musicians Think the Same?” video.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: RIP TSV


	8. Chapter 8

Brett was working with the Queensland Symphony Orchestra[*] now; he had given up his apartment in Sydney and had moved back to Brisbane. Which was great because then they could meet up more easily. Or so they had thought.

What with Brett having orchestra rehearsals and performances and Eddy’s internship at the hospital, they didn’t end up meeting up more than maybe once a month. They still texted each other almost every day, and Brett was always forwarding him hilarious, or sometimes just plain weird, memes.

Brett messaged him about QSO playing at QPAC[†], for something called their Friday Nights series, and Eddy immediately swiped to the orchestra’s website and bought a ticket.

“Dinner after?” Brett texted, and Eddy glowed.

“Sure,” he tapped, and later that day, one of his fellow interns elbowed him in the side and asked if he got laid and who was the lucky person. Eddy batted off more teasing and escaped to the vending machine where he happily punched in a random number, not caring what he got.

They were going to hang out!

It was raining later that evening, and Eddy cursed as a car pulled off the curb and into a puddle, splattering his pants knees-down with city rainwater sludge. He was waiting for a taxi outside the hospital but gave up the first one to a family and their discharged son. He waved them off; he hadn’t been assigned to that particular patient but had seen him around. It took a while before another cab showed up and Eddy’s shoes were already drenched. He squelched noisily into the backseat, his shoes oozing puddles onto the car’s floor mats, and ducked his head apologetically when he met the driver’s glare in the rearview mirror.

When they pulled up in front of the performance hall, Eddy slipped hurriedly out, making sure to tip extra. The performance hadn’t started yet but most of the guests were already seated; Eddy crept to his seat under the disapproving stare of the usher, who was holding out a flashlight to help him see.

Eddy held his hands up in apology at the others seated around him as he dropped into his seat and cringed at the wet trail he left behind. Then he settled in for the performance.

Brett really shone as the concertmaster; it was something he took pride in, and Eddy loved to hear Brett talking about the orchestra members and their individual quirks and habits.

And something caught his eye, something he hadn’t noticed before. A simple silver bracelet, glinting softly in the stage lights, encircling Brett’s right wrist.

\----

Eddy didn’t think it’d be right if he popped backstage like he would have if he were… well, he wouldn’t go backstage. He lingered in the lobby and eyed the milling crowd, smiling politely at a few familiar faces. He knew some of them from the time when he had played part-time but he hadn’t kept in touch with anyone since he’d left. There were others he had met when he had come to see Brett, which was often enough. He said hi to some of them and even chatted a bit. But well, it was strange, noticing the slight differences in the way some of them spoke or gestured or even just the general vibe of them. It was disconcerting to know them and to have memories of them, but some of those memories weren’t even valid anymore.

After a bit, Eddy had enough and decided to wait outside instead. He edged out of the lobby. The rain was still coming down strong, and there was a noisy dribble coming off the shelter extending out over the front of the concert hall entrance. Eddy’s feet felt sticky in his shoes, still damp from having been splashed on.

He checked his watch; it was only half an hour after the concert ended. The orchestra members were probably still packing up, and Brett being Brett, had always loved to stay and chat with anyone who wanted to.

 _Where should we go?_ Eddy mused. He flicked open a search engine and scrolled through a foodie website for suggestions. Maybe some place with desserts—Brett always did love sweets.

“Thanks for waiting,” Brett’s voice made him jump, and Eddy spun around.

“No worries,” Eddy grinned and slipped his phone into his pocket. “Where do…” he trailed off.

Hyung was standing behind Brett, peering past them and out into the rain. He was straightening the lapels of a stylish coat, his cello slung easily over one shoulder.

“Hey, Hyung,” Eddy smiled. “How’s you going?”

“Hey, man,” Hyung glanced back down and met Eddy’s eyes. “Good,” and something in his gaze flickered. “Been a while.”

“Yeah,” Eddy nodded.

“Hyung’s coming with us, by the way,” Brett declared, and Eddy had to hide his disappointment. But whatever, it’d be pretty good to catch up with Hyung anyway; the three of them got together sometimes to play video games if he didn’t happen to be at the hospital or if the two of them didn’t have rehearsals or shows.

“Look,” Brett had his phone out and Eddy leaned over to look at the screen. “There’s a diner just two blocks down. That sound good?”

Eddy shrugged; he didn’t mind. He glanced at Hyung, but Brett clarified, “Hyung suggested it.”

“Oh, okay,” Eddy supposed Hyung knew the area well since they both worked here.

Brett craned his neck forward and grimaced up at the sky. “I didn’t-” but he stopped short as Hyung held out a black umbrella with a smooth wooden handle.

“Nice!” Brett grinned, and glanced at Eddy. “Do you have one?”

Eddy shook his head and gestured dolefully at his wretched appearance. “My pants got messed up earlier too,” he added for emphasis.

Brett shrugged, hooking his thumbs under the straps of his violin case and eyeing the umbrella. “It looks big enough to fit all of us.”

“I have a spare,” Hyung produced a small collapsible umbrella and proffered it to Eddy.

“Man, where do you even keep all this stuff?” Eddy took it and waved a hand at Hyung, and the other man chuckled.

“Let’s go!” Brett whooped and. And. Brett hooked his arm with Hyung’s and dragged him forward. They stumbled out of the sheltered entranceway just as Hyung hurriedly popped open the umbrella over both their heads. “Oppa, lead the way!!”

Eddy gaped; Brett had never been super touchy-feely. The other two were splashing off down the sidewalk, Hyung holding the umbrella over them as Brett hauled the taller man along. Eddy shook open the borrowed umbrella. “Wait up!”

\----

Brett gasped when the server placed his order in front of him–a towering sundae with three different flavors of ice cream and, Eddy eyed it with some horror, maybe also packed with cake. He spooned a massive mound of whipped cream into his mouth and moaned in pleasure. Eddy grinned; Brett looked ridiculous with his cheeks bulging, a little googly-eyed. Brett swiveled over to Eddy and he tried to say something around his mouthful of dessert.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Hyung reprimanded without a single tone of reproach, and took an elegant bite of his own dessert, a simple vanilla sponge cake topped with a tasteful dollop of cream. The cellist had rolled his sleeves up smartly, like he did when he was playing, and Eddy noticed a silver bracelet around his right wrist.

Brett finally swallowed, a smear of cream still on the corner of his mouth.

“I’m moving out of my parents’ since–” Brett started but glanced over as Hyung pointedly held out a napkin. Brett grabbed it and scrubbed it over his mouth with a sheepish grin before continuing. “–since the job’s stable and all now. QSO’s pretty good.”

“’Grats!” Eddy beamed but paused after a moment. “But where are you going to stay? I mean, rent is such a pain,” Eddy rolled his eyes in sympathy. Then a thought occurred to him. His own place was pretty big and now that the spare rooms weren’t being used as a recording studio or as storage for TwoSet Apparel, they were just sitting empty. “You could crash at my…”

“We’re going to split a place,” Brett jerked his chin at Hyung, and they shared a grin.

“Oh,” Eddy experienced a sudden disorienting moment. He looked at Hyung. “Were you renting? I thought you were at your family’s place too.”

Hyung lowered his fork. “I was staying at my parents’ but…” and there it was again, that slight flicker. Eddy wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination. Hyung was now looking at Brett with a serious expression on his face. Brett scrunched up his nose in a pout, and Eddy could tell he was stopping himself from throwing his hands up in the air.

But… wait, what?

“We’re going to move in together!” Brett blurted, and abruptly leaned over the table to grab Eddy’s hands. He went on in a rush. “You can come over any time and we can play Smash Bros or whatever!” Brett gave Eddy’s hands a squeeze. “It’d be fun!”

“Oh,” Eddy managed, struggling to continue. “Oh.”

Eddy’s gaze had dropped to their hands, Brett’s on his. He stared at the blue veins rising from beneath pale skin, could feel the scratchiness of Brett’s calloused fingertips. The silver bracelet around Brett’s wrist looked a little loose.

He concentrated on lifting his head. He wasn’t sure what the expression on his face was; his head felt heavy and the bustle of the diner seemed to warble around him as if from underwater.

Brett was still looking at him. Eddy could see his own faint distorted reflection in Brett’s glasses.

“Cool,” Eddy tried to smile. He was sure he didn’t succeed. “Fun.”

-+-+-+-+-

Brett yelped as he skidded and then laughed, the sound carrying over the bustling crowd in the skating rink. Eddy took a sip of his hot chocolate, leaning against the waist-high rink barrier. Then Brett happened to look up, mid-flail, and caught Eddy’s eye. He waved energetically and Eddy raised a hand in return. He was glad of the scarf that was wrapped around his neck and chin, obscuring half of his face. He didn’t feel like he had it in him to fake a smile, even though Brett was quite a distance away and probably couldn’t even see his face.

“Hey,” there was a soft scrape of ice, and Hyung slid up next to Eddy. “Not going to join us?”

Eddy tucked his chin down deeper into his scarf and held up his hot chocolate. “Maybe later,” his voice was muffled.

“Sure,” Hyung replied easily and kicked off, gliding gracefully across the rink. He made it look simple, weaving through the haphazard throng of skaters.

 _As expected of an ex-national team skater_ , Eddy thought and then assessed the thought. Was it envy? No. It was just a thought, an empty hollow fact drifting by.

Hyung reached Brett, who was still flailing, and caught him around the waist. He twirled the shorter man in a circle, keeping the other upright with both hands on his shoulders. Brett shrieked and wobbled dangerously but didn’t fall.

Then they were moving again, their hands linked, Hyung leading Brett’s coltish skitter.

Eddy took another sip of his hot chocolate.

The air was clear and crisp, and the winter air was numbing.

\----

Eddy slumped in his chair, an arm flung over his eyes. It had been a hectic day at the hospital, well, more than a day; he had spent nearly thirty hours at the hospital, catching fleeting naps on the couch in the on-call room. The other interns had been as harried as he was, and he’d actually groaned in relief when he had been told he could go off shift.

Eddy had stumbled out into the late afternoon heat and called for a taxi. And now, he felt like he was melting into his chair, unable to get up and go shower or even crawl to his bed. He felt too exhausted to sleep, if that were even possible.

His phone pinged gently, and Eddy peeled open his gummy eyes, squinting at the phone’s notification. Brett. Eddy sat up in his chair and thumbed open the message.

An image of an adorable Golden Retriever puppy popped up on the screen. It had a simple chain collar with a classy gold tag hanging from it. The name TOBY was embossed on it. Brett was holding the dog in his lap, arm outstretched just out of sight to take the picture. His hair was mussed, sticking up at the sides and the top, and his gray shirt was rumpled, and Eddy could see damp spots on it, presumably from dog drool. Hyung was half-out of the frame; the cellist’s head was turned to Brett, his gaze fond, one hand on Brett’s just-visible knee. There were no drool patches on his well-fitted shirt.

Eddy stared down at the picture.

_“Cute dooooggy,” Brett drawled and tilted his phone so Eddy could see his screen where he was scrolling through social media._

_Eddy was propped up in bed next to Brett on three pillows, scrolling through his own phone, and his eyes flickered over. “Awww, yeah. That is cute.”_

_Brett tossed his phone aside and rolled over, sliding his arms around Eddy’s waist and burying his nose in the groove between Eddy’s collarbones._

_“Sorry,” Eddy sighed, and dropped his phone on the bedside table, squirming so he was lying down too. They wriggled a little to get comfy. “Wish I wasn’t allergic,” Eddy looped his arms around Brett’s shoulder, rested a cheek against the top of Brett’s head. “I guess there’s medication for that, though.”_

_Brett huffed, “nah,” then he tightened his grip. “I already got a puppy right here,” and he looked up disarmingly at Eddy._

_Eddy’s heart did some sort of flip-flop in his chest, and it was ridiculous, outrageous even, because they’d known each other for more than half their lives, for goodness sake. Every time Brett did something even remotely adorable, Eddy swooned internally. And also, sometimes externally. He didn’t think he could take any more of this._

_He yanked Brett up so they were nose-to-nose and leaned their foreheads together. His heart was still thumping in his chest, heavy and roiling._

_“Woof,” he said, and Brett’s smile… oh, Brett._

Cute, Eddy managed to type back. He waited for a bit, watching the little checkmarks next to his sent message to see if they’d turn blue[‡]. They didn’t.

Eddy sat and stared down at his phone. The outside sky darkened into early evening, and the deepening shadows slipped across the room.

\-----

[*] QSO.

[†] Queensland Performing Arts Centre

[‡] On WhatsApp, two check marks means that the message has been delivered successfully to the recipient's phone. If the two check marks turn blue, that means that the message has been read.


	9. Chapter 9

They caught it earlier this time.

Brett always said Eddy was being weird about his medical checkups, but he put it down to the fact that Eddy was in medicine. Eddy made sure Brett went for all his routine checkups, and then some.

Before, they hadn’t known until it was too late, and Brett had already been tired and overworked and his weakening immune system hadn’t been able to keep up with it anymore. This time, they caught it in a routine checkup, years before the last time, and Brett was stunned by the apparently unexpected test results.

Eddy hadn’t known for sure either because what if, this time, Brett was completely fine? He had blanched at the results but suddenly, it seemed like everything was worth it. He could help! He was sure of it. He would do more than _those_ doctors had. He would do better. He _had_ to do better.

\----

Time passed.

Brett got better.

\----

Brett still played with the QSO, but he wasn’t there full-time anymore, and he didn’t perform in every season. He laughed and said he just wanted an excuse to slack off, but Eddy didn’t buy it.

\----

Time passed.

Brett got worse.

\----

Then Brett left the QSO, claiming that he wanted to go on sabbatical.

Eddy met up with him after his last day with the QSO, and they went to a nearby coffeeshop. They sat by the window looking out onto the sidewalk, and Eddy didn’t say anything. Brett didn’t say anything either, but the fingers that curled around the handle of his cup shook a little and once in a while, Brett sniffed. Eddy kept his eyes fixed steadily ahead and took a sip of his own coffee.

They sat in silence and drank their flat whites.

\----

The hospital kept Eddy busy enough, but he visited Brett whenever he could and helped take Toby out on walks when Brett said he was feeling too tired.

One evening when he was bringing Toby back, he ran into Hyung, on the way home from rehearsal.

Hyung invited him in and Eddy accepted, if only just to have another peek at how Brett was doing before he left.

Brett asked him to stay for dinner, but Eddy declined. “I’ll stay a bit though,” and he sat next to Brett on the couch in the living room with the muted hum of the turned-down television in the background.

The smell of Bolognese sauce drifted in from the kitchen, and a sudden wave of gratitude washed over Eddy. With Brett not having the energy to do much, this—Eddy gave the kitchen doorway a quick glance—was a good thing, after all. Brett could have homecooked meals and not worry about what to eat.

Eddy looked down at his hands. He still didn’t know how to cook.

\----

Time passed.

And Brett got worse.

Eddy wasn’t allowed to be in charge of Brett’s case. The senior doctors said he was ‘too involved’—Eddy had marched away at this—but it was a small comfort that Brett was admitted to the same hospital Eddy worked at.

\----

Brett got worse.

\----

Eddy felt powerless.

\----

Eddy fidgeted at the ward entrance until Brett rolled his head over to look at him with a grunt of irritation. Eddy stepped in and approached Brett. He looked frail, his skin paper-thin. There was a hollowness in his eyes that Eddy hadn’t seen before.

“You know…” Brett’s voice was so tiny Eddy could barely hear him. Eddy leaned forward.

“Brett,” Eddy started. “It’s going to be okay. We’re working on–”

“Listen,” Brett hissed with sudden vigor, and Eddy fell silent.

Brett’s cheeks were sunken, his eyes gaunt. His voice was a thin weedy rasp. “I know… there’s something not quite… right.”

His eyes searched Eddy’s but Eddy didn’t know what he could possibly be looking for. _More reassurance?_ He had none to give. But he _was_ going to make this right, damnit!

“Don’t do this.” Brett reached up, and his fingertips brushed, featherlight, over Eddy’s cheek. Eddy tilted his head and leaned into it, but Brett’s hand dropped back down to his side.

Brett opened his mouth then closed it.

“What?” Eddy was nearly frantic. “What is it?”

“When I die,” Brett wheezed and then coughed mid-inhale. Eddy ground his teeth together and was about to protest when he caught Brett’s warning glare, even through a hacking cough. Eddy locked his jaw, held Brett’s shoulder steady, squeezed his hand. “Don’t do it again,” Brett finally managed.

“What?” Eddy frowned, eyebrows narrowed.

“I don’t want you to waste your life… your… lives on me,” Brett’s head dropped back onto the pillow.

Eddy gaped.

“Don’t do it,” Brett repeated. Eddy opened his mouth but just then, the door slammed open.

“Brett!” Hyung was sweeping in with the scent of cold and damp snow and crisp winter air. The cellist bowed over Brett, clasping his hands over Brett’s.

Eddy stepped back and retreated from the room. In the hallway, he slumped against the wall and raked a hand through his hair. What Brett had said… How did he know? How could he tell? All this time. This whole life.

He chuckled dryly. No one had ever accused Brett of being dim, that was for sure. Eddy looked at his hands. The tips of his fingers were soft; the callouses he had gotten playing the violin so many years ago had long since worn away. There was a scar on the back of his hand, from when he first had to perform a procedure and had been nerve-wrecked. Of all things, he had nicked himself against the sink before he put his surgical gloves on.

He could hear Hyung’s low voice coming from inside the hospital ward in a soothing rumble, and Eddy curled his hands into fists and pressed his knuckles into his eyes. Spots of color danced behind his eyelids.

_Don’t leave me. Not again._


	10. Chapter 10

It was Christmas when he heard.

Of course it was fucking Christmas.

The nurse knocked on his office door, stood in the doorway for a while before coming in, and then told him the news firmly and calmly, in a matter-of-fact tone.

Eddy didn’t, couldn’t process what he heard for a moment. His throat worked and somehow, miraculously, the first words out of his mouth were “Vasopressin?”

The nurse nodded, then shook her head.

Eddy was suddenly confused. Was this real? Maybe he had gotten mixed up, and this was a dream. The dream he had been dreaming all this time. He slammed his fists against the wall, and the plaster cracked under the impact.

_No. No! Why wasn't this enough? Why wasn't he enough?_

There was a sharp crack, and Eddy heard the nurse exclaim. "Doctor!" He blinked wet away from his eyes, raised a hand and drew it across his face. It came away in a bloody smear. He had slammed his forehead against the wall, and now the pristine white wallpaper had a smudge of red on it. He stared at the crimson blotch and then down at his stained hands.

"Doctor. Are you all right?" The nurse put a placating hand on his arm, but he shrugged it off.

“Give me a minute.” He turned away and dropped into his chair. The nurse paused and then left, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Eddy reached into his pocket and pulled out the Time Turner. The Time Turner he had kept on him ever since that fateful day he had first met Brett and... himself.

Eddy took a deep breath.

_Brett._

He held the Time Turner up to his eyes. The tiny grains of sand in the hourglass glimmered faintly.

He thought he had had it all worked out. He had let go of all the things he thought wouldn’t help him, wouldn’t help Brett, let the things he loved slip through his fingers and hoped that it would be enough. A big enough price to pay, a heavy enough burden to carry. Just for one thing. One thing.

_Brett._

A warm trickle of blood oozed down the side of his face from the gash on his forehead. Eddy looked down at his trembling blood-stained knuckles.

_Just three turns should do it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I consider this to be the “true” ending of this fic, but I just felt like writing the next little bit ~~for my own terrible self-satisfaction~~.  
> TW: **Major Character Death** (Yes, more.)  
> Read ahead at your own peril.


	11. let go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: **Major Character Death**

This time, Eddy didn't wait until he was home. When a strange man walked up to him and handed him a clear pill bottle filled with a shimmery silver liquid, Eddy couldn’t resist.

He touched it.

Lifetimes later, Eddy opened his eyes and found himself flat on his back on the ground with Brett kneeling by his side and peering at his face. There was a gaggle of other children standing around with a mixed air of curiosity and apprehension.

"Brett!" Eddy gasped, lurching upright and grabbing the other boy by the shoulders. He gave him a rough shake and flung his arms around him in a crushing hug.

"Are you all right?" Brett seemed stunned at being manhandled by a stranger, but his voice was calm.

 _I need to get out of here_ , Eddy thought and stood, seizing Brett's hand.

"What?" Brett stammered as he was dragged to his feet.

Brett's smaller frame wasn't too difficult to haul along, and Eddy cut across the parking lot and out onto the street.

"Wait!" Brett was tugging against him. "Stop! You're going onto the road!"

Eddy kept moving forward, ignoring Brett's strangled yells. The other boy's wrist was slender in his grip, and Eddy tightened his hold.

"Let go!" Brett sounded desperate. 

Eddy kept moving.

Brett jerked his weight furiously against Eddy's hold, to no avail. "Let me go!"

Eddy kept moving.

"Eddy," Brett yelled over the roar of traffic honking and swerving around them. "You have to let me go!"

 _No_ , Eddy thought. _I'm not letting go._

Eddy looked up at the blare of a horn and the glare of headlights speeding toward them. _Never again._


End file.
